August 3, 2013

There are no beautiful sunsets in hell.

When things are shit all over and going to hell in a handcart, there are no nice and pleasant interludes or options available.

You don’t get a steady linear relationship between good things and bad environments, and of course it cuts both ways, it isn’t just the case that it is difficult to find good things in a bad environment, it is also the case that if it is difficult to find good things, you’re in a bad environment, no matter what anyone tries to tell you.

For those men out there still looking for the NAWALT wimminz or the decent relationship with their sons, it isn’t just that these things are hard to find in this feminazi environment, it is also that the mere fact that these things are so fucking difficult, I dare to say impossible, to find, that highlights just how bad this feminazi environment is.

All the blogs and other social commentary I read treat these things like we are on the upward slopes of a bell curve, somewhere in the foothills, see my phrase above, “GOING to hell in a handcart” and boy we better be damn careful of things will get a lot worse boys and girls.

I beg to differ, we are at or near the peak of the bell curve, we aren’t *going* anywhere, we already *arrived* in hell, and the handcart is burning to ashes around us.

This complacency about the dire situation we find ourselves in is of course deliberately engineered, if we were not in such dire straits, there would be no need for such endemic social engineering, there are 999 new wimminz on offer, 500 new houses for sale, 750 cars, 200 motorsickles, 50 films and 10 flavours of ice cream, and I don’t want any of them, at least, not at the prices being asked.

I tire of the internet, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the film industry, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the games industry, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the dating and fucking sites, there is nothing new out there.

It is not that I crave only the new, it is that I am tired of the same old used up shit being repackaged in every more glossy bullshit packaging at ever inflated prices.

You can put lipstick on a pig, it is still a pig, no amount of extra make-up and cosmetic surgery and marketing is going to change that fact one iota.

What’s worse, it is also no longer an honest to god pig either.

The hysteria and insanity and rank desperation that pervaded PoF just twelve short months ago has now spread to the fucking/swinging sites, and hysteria like all memes spreads like a contagion.

Skank ho’s are now finding real difficulty finding two men, of any calibre, to MMF them, and they are throwing their toys outta da fuckin’ pram.

But we can forget Fannie Mae and Prism and Snowden and stock market algos, because all the yank embassies are going to close, on worldwide alert for raghead muslim terr’rist atrocities, which will kill less murricans than Chevy brakes, and Kim Kardashian is back after a week away, and Si Cowell has got some gold digging slut pregnant, fuck it all.